The Power the Dark Lord Knew Not
by Snowdevils
Summary: One-Shot. Ginny reflects on her love for Harry, and what she thinks the power was that led to Voldemort's ultimate demise.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, it all belongs to the fantastic J.K. Rowling.

**A/N:** This was just a quick one shot that I wrote while trying to write for my other fanfics, whichI'm sure are coming along nicely, look in my bio for updates, as well as my live journal. And for those of you who enjoyed the Marauders and the Harry Potter Books, check out my live journal, which is now where I'll be posting upates, it's easier that way. And by the way please tell me what you think, this is my first attempt at a one shot like this, and I would love to know what went well, and what went, well, not so well. Thanks for reading.

The Power the Dark Lord Knew Not

Hermione knew I never really got over him. She knew that when he cried I cried, and when he falls, I do as well. She's the only one that really did. She let it go, however, didn't push me to admit my feelings, there was no need to.

I went on for the next year, as I did the year before, I was there when Harry needed me and I yelled when he got out of hand. I quickly became his friend, his confident, as Ron and Hermione grew closer. I was the first that saw him cry, and the first he told his innermost secret to.

The Prophecy.

Oh that dreaded prophecy, how I wanted to destroy everything when I first heard of it, how I wanted to scream at the world. But I had to be there for him, I encouraged him, I told him that if anyone could finish that darn thing it was him, even though in my heart I was screaming for him to stay, to do nothing at all.

Damn Voldemort to hell.

I'm sure he's there now, Harry made sure to take care of that.

He's by the lake now, all alone, as he always his. And I wonder if I should go to him. There's nothing holding me back anymore, if I were to go down there now, nothing could stop me. My heart would be on my sleeve, just waiting for him to give into his heart for the first time in his life.

Oh I know he loves me, or he did at one time last year. He whispered the words as he pulled a blanket over me, and kissed my forehead just barely with his lips. It sounded as if it were the first time he ever uttered the words, they sounded so foreign on his lips, as if he were forbidden to say such a thing.

But why should he?

Harry the fucking Boy Who Lived Potter had any right to say such a thing just any other human being on this earth, if not more.

Hermione explained to me once, about his child hood. How he was ignored, mistreated, and maybe even as far as physically abused and belittled. And oh, how I wanted to murder those Dursley's right on the spot, how could they even think of mistreating Harry, who would never even harm a fly, excluding the bad guys of course.

I didn't kill them, or even prank them for that matter, as much as I wanted to, just hearing what they did to him, made my heart ache even more for him. But I couldn't rise to the bait, that Hermione was so deliberately dangling in front of me, no matter how much I wished to, I just said a quick, 'oh how terrible,' and went back to my work. Oh how terribly disappointed Hermione looked, but she did not continue, before she left the room, leaving me to my work.

It was Harry's fault, that I couldn't share my feelings for him to the world, to my friends, to him. He told me once, after he had told me of the prophecy, of his fear of love, of his fear that he would kill everyone that ever cared for him without even meaning to. How he couldn't share his feelings, his love for others, something Voldemort wanted to suck dry of him. And he wasn't going to allow himself to feel, to experience the teenage hormones, as he so eloquently put it, until the prophecy was put to rest and Voldemort was dead.

There was a sad look on his face as he said it, as he turned to face me, and as I sat there silently, my heart breaking, trying my best to comfort him as I cried inwardly. At the time I had no idea why he had said such a thing, but it hit me as the year went by, the night he whispered he loved me. He was telling me it was me he wanted, but couldn't have, I was the love, that Voldemort would want to destroy. He knew I still cared for him, and his own secretive way he was telling me the same. Telling me that he may never get to have a chance to fall in love, to feel loved, that he might die before then.

And I let him.

I let him get away with telling me he loved me, and he didn't deserve love. And oh it was so unlike me, so unlike my character, if I was in my right mind I would have fought him to the death, until he gave in.

But in a strange way I understood.

If I hadn't Harry would have had nothing to live for, and he would have perished just as his parents had, as Sirius had, as Remus, and Dumbledore, and so many more.

And I understood, I was the power the Dark Lord knew not. He knew of Harry's friendship with Ron and Hermione, and oh how many times he tried to kill them, to get to Harry, who always managed to save them, causing him to dance with death so many times. And how he cared for Sirius, and Remus, and Dumbledore, as a father figure, and as each time Harry tried to save each and every one they would fall to their ultimate demise, leaving Harry heart broken all over again.

But Voldemort never did know of Harry's love for me, he never knew of our friendship, or how we cared so deeply for the other, without ever sharing it. Harry never allowed it. If I had died, if Voldemort had taken me, Harry's power to love and feel loved would be lost, and Voldemort would have won.

But he's dead now, and Harry's not.

I watch as Harry stares at the lake, the giant squid popping his head up every once in a while. He looks at peace almost, his life is just beginning now, and I realize I have nothing to fear as I tear my eyes away from the window. I already know everything I need to know. And so I skip down the stairs, a smile on my face. It was time that Harry got his happily ever after, and I knew just the way to give it to him.


End file.
